


Mamma Mia!

by harryunwin



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Mamma Mia! (2008)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, basically just mamma mia except spies, still a spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9003055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryunwin/pseuds/harryunwin
Summary: Harry Hart receives a letter from a former love- an invitation to attend her daughter's wedding. Feeling spontaneous, he travels to the Greek island of Kalokairi and reprises his role as Harry Bright. While there, he meets a lost love, a girl with familiar eyes, a couple guys with large personalities, and a young man that he just can't seem to get out of his head.Here we go again.





	

The year was 1987. August 11th. Harry Hart was a dignified twenty seven years old. Having officially joined Kingsman as agent Galahad only four years ago, he was still finding his footing in the spy business. It wasn't all one liners and swooning women, he was quick to learn; it often involved long hours, tough decisions, and ridiculous cover stories.

Harry had wanted to be an actor in his youth. A short lived dream, as his father and grandfather immediately squashed any connections he made- only to be disappointed years later when he went into _tailoring_ instead of the family business. But he could safely say he hadn't expected to be taking acting classes upon being sworn in as a secret agent. And he hadn't expected to detest them even more than interrogation resistance.

An actor he was not. So he was pleasantly surprised to find his newest mission featured an alias with his first name. And on a beautiful destination island in Greece. How could anything go wrong?

 

He found just how many things could go wrong upon collecting his wardrobe for the mission. Black skinny jeans, band shirts, a choker, three different tubes of eyeliner. Combat boots, a jacket covered in pins, and a hair straightener. He felt ridiculous just carrying the bags out of the shop.

But it wasn't all bad. The Merlin of the time debriefed him- he was to spend a week there, gathering intel, meeting locals, and finding a way to get to his mark. Who happened to be the entertainment director of the island's single concert venue.

 

Meeting Donna Sheridan was a happy accident. Harry was milling around the field, kicking at empty beer cans and hoping someone that knew his mark would come by to clean up the place. He was just turning to leave when a chortling voice called to him. “Hey, rockstar!”

Rolling his eyes, he looked towards the stranger. Harry's breath caught. In another life, his real life, they never would have given each other a second glance. But strangely, Harry felt a tingling throughout his body that he'd never had before.

The woman was pale, and she looked as if she'd slept among the litter and critters of the concert field. Her trousers were tighter than skin, her jacket was a layer too many, and the entire ensemble was more colourful than his wardrobe combined. Her hair was teased to great lengths, except on the side she'd seemingly slept on.

Harry thought himself a little bit in love.

 

Ignoring the tall young woman beside her giving him the eyes, he smiled widely and approached. He probably looked ridiculous, he realized, grinning like an idiot and wearing black nail polish. But he didn't care. He had a joke of a cover; the wankers in that department hadn't even given him an actual last name. Harry _Headbanger_ , they wanted him to call himself.

“My, what a bright smile you've got,” the stunning stranger purred. The short young lady on her left rolled her eyes. “What's your name?”

“Funny you should say that,” Harry said on a whim. “Bright. Harry Bright.”

She cackled. “I love it. You new around here, Harry Bright?”

“Yes. Yes, I wanted to look into getting a gig.” Harry was quite proud of himself- furthering his mission while trying to keep the stars out of his eyes.

“I can talk to the manager,” she said immediately.

“Donna!” The short woman put her hands on her hips.

“What, Rosie? I'm sure he can play! Hey, he might even want to play with us….” Donna put a finger to her lip innocently. Harry thought he might fall over.

“Yes, Donna. Please.” Harry smiled brighter and clasped his hands together. “Take a chance on me.”

 

Donna put in a good word, and Harry was given a direct link to his mark. As part of _intelligence collection_ , he asked if she would show him the island. They spent their week walking on beaches, singing offkey, and drinking just a little too much. It was beautiful. But nothing was as beautiful as Donna.

  
  
  


Donna smiled. She had a gorgeous smile, really. It lit up her face and made his mission seem like the least important thing on his mind. They were exploring a deserted part of the island Harry hadn't been to. Donna grabbed Harry's hand suddenly, dragging him farther up the hill. But instead of staying on the path, she veered between two thick walls of trees. Harry's heart was pumping in his chest, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.

“This is what I really wanted to show you,” Donna whispered, as if the trees were alive and listening to her secrets. But not a soul could hear them as she moved to the center of the small meadow and sat, resting her new guitar on her knees.

And then she sang. Donna had the most beautiful voice. She enchanted with the simplest of tunes, and excited with her performances. She'd go far, Harry knew. Even if she never saw him again, he'd get to watch her gain everything she ever wished for from afar.

She sang about silly things. He knew they were silly. She sang about the places they could go, the things they could do. Picnics under the Eiffel tower, walks along the Seine, visiting museums and cafes and laughing in the rain. And then she grinned and told him she'd written a song for him.

 

She sang her song, their song, and when it was over she strummed the last note and let it linger in the air. He was a bit awe struck, honestly, and more than a little moved. The sun filtered through the trees and made her hair a wonderful yellow. She peeked up at him expectantly, looking as if she was about to ask if he liked it. Instead of waiting, Harry pushed himself up on an elbow. He gently took the neck of the guitar and placed it to the side. Cupping her cheek, Harry pressed their lips together. She was so soft, so sweet. She made a happy noise in the back of her throat, and...

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Harry folded the letter. He'd read it a dozen times over, and once more over tea and toast. What was he doing? Donna Sheridan was a beautiful memory, but that was all she was. A part of his life that he'd cherished fleetingly, and had moved on from years ago. Twenty whole years ago. Why was he responding to this letter, and _returning_ for a wedding he knew nothing about? It was foolish. It was ridiculous. It was spontaneous.

That was what Merlin had called it. Spontaneous idiocy. But despite all his teasing, he'd happily granted Harry the time off. Galahad hadn't taken an extended leave in decades.

Harry shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket and put his dishes in the sink for the housekeeper to clean.

 

“Morning, Rodney,” Harry said brightly, handing over his shoulder bag. He’d always liked Rodney. One wouldn’t have guessed that he was a getaway driver for a secret spy organization; he was a graying man with a round stomach, and more than enough ailments that no one truly knew the legitimacy of. But he was trained well in combat, driving, and firearms. A jack of all trades, Rodney. And he never complained that all of his deadly talent was being wasted chauffeuring agents around in their free time.

At least he usually got to drive the sleek black cabs. Today he was given some awful blue thing as part of his cover. If he was still being driven somewhere, Harry griped, he could at least have a proper cab.

Comfortable that Rodney would get them to their destination safely, Harry opened his newspaper.

And promptly lost himself in his thoughts. The rest of the ride he sat silently, words swimming in front of his eyes, as he once again considered the idiocy of what he was doing.

  
  
  
  


Tumbling out of the red cab with his luggage, Harry shouted for the boat. Ordinarily he would have gracefully accepted defeat, but the open-collared man arriving at the same time was doing so as well and… well, when in Rome. Greece.

For good measure, and to establish his character, Harry exclaimed: “... Bugger!”

“My sentiments exactly,” the man said.

Rubbing his forehead, Harry glanced around. It was a much brighter place than England, yes. Enjoyable to stay at no matter whether he attended a wedding. But no. He’d swore he would do it, foolish or not.

“I'm trying to get to Kalokairi. When's the next ferry?” Harry asked, bending towards the schedule with the stranger.

“Monday,” the handsome man muttered.

“Bollocks.”

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly,” he repeated. Harry felt like he would very quickly grow tired of this man.

Harry straightened with a sigh, considering whether Merlin would send a copter for him to fly to the island. Probably not, the cranky bastard. His complaining was cut off by the man asking, “Bride or groom?”

“Uh…. Bride, although I’ve never actually met her.”

The stranger made a face, and was about to open his mouth to say something else about sentiments when a voice shouted at them: “Ahoy, there! You guys need a ride to Kalokairi?”

  
  


For as many surprising and ridiculous missions as Harry had been on, his head was spinning from trying to figure out how he’d gotten to where he was. He was pretending to not know how to steer a boat, pulling ropes and running across the deck, with two unknown men all apparently going to the wedding of strangers he’d come across the world to attend. Sam, as he quickly learned, seemed to be an asset. A quick learner, not someone to wilt under a bit of heat and effort. Evidently, his tan was not as artificial as it looked. And Bill, the owner of the boat, was a boisterous man who spent little time making decisions and less explaining them.

Truthfully, it was rather fun.

Harry’s job required a level of procedure, and after twenty five-odd years going by the book, it was nice to fall over his feet and laugh with a guy living in a boat. They spent an excessive amount of time getting the ship on course, and making sure it would stay floating. Then Sam and Harry took a break, sitting side by side on the deck.

 

“... Sam, is it?”

“Yes,” the man said, turning to him again with a bright smile. “Harry?”

“I’m terribly sorry, it’s just that I find your face very familiar.” He stared openly for a moment, trying to piece together whatever scraps of memory he was struggling with.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I think I’d remember someone like you.”

“Quite,” he said. Remembering his pseudo-personality, he affected a broad smile and shrugged. “Perhaps you’ve just a memorable face.”

“So I’ve been told,” he grinned, looking unfairly handsome even with his salt and pepper hair and unshaven face. Sam glanced out across the water, breathing deeply. “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it Harry?”

“Indeed.” Harry frowned. “I have many wonderful memories. For as short of a time as I was here.”

“So do I,” Sam murmured agreeably. “I never should have left.”

He left it at that. Harry Bright wasn’t a conversationalist, after all. So he sat, content, watching the water flow past.

 

“What ever happened to our love?” Sam whispered to himself dramatically, as if no one else was meant to hear it. “It used to be so good.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry stood and walked to the other end of the ship. The land they’d departed from was gone from view, leaving only a sparkling blue landscape in its wake.

“Harry!” Bill shouted down at him. Harry raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “I bet you’ve not been on a real boat in years!”

Harry repressed the urge to tell him he’d recently been on submarines, cruise ships, speed boats, and a recreation pirate ship in the line of duty- but instead he put on a self-deprecating smile and let Bill take the piss. It was only a few days, after all- he could play nice for that long.

  
  
  


They docked the ship with only a short argument between the locals and Bill, shouting in a language he barely knew. Harry hauled his luggage with sunglasses resting on his nose, careful to pretend he had the strength of a longtime desk jockey. He found that their personalities didn’t necessarily match up. Sam liked to hear himself talk, and Bill couldn’t seem to help himself from talking or slinging an arm over a shoulder. Harry found himself taking a backseat in most conversations. Bill harassed a merchant into pointing them in the right direction, Sam charmed a woman into letting them into the area- and Harry suggested they take a break.

 

“Are you related to a James?” Harry asked after a long moment, fanning himself.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. Something felt strange about the expression. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed. He dropped the subject, making note to talk to Merlin later.

“Hi. May I help you?” A soft voice had them turning, dropping their luggage. A young girl appeared, blinking big blue eyes. She was a pretty girl, with long blonde hair and miraculously pale skin considering where she lived. She looked… like Donna.

“Sure,” Bill butted in. “We’re here for the wedding. I’m Bill Anderson.”

The girl looked laughably surprised by this news. Amused and hoping to trigger a response, Harry supplied, “I’m Bright, Harry Bright.”

“Sam Carmichael,” Sam finished. After a pause, “... You are expecting us?”

“Oh, my god. Yes!”

 

It was very suspicious, naturally. Harry hadn’t expected anything ordinary to happen at this point. But still, it wasn’t difficult to conjure up a disgruntled, disgusted expression when Sophie led them through the hotel and escorted them into the goat house.

 

Harry’s heart twinged when his eyes landed upon the faded wood of the acoustic guitar. He’d gotten it for her, traded one of the terrible shirts Wardrobe had sent him in for it. The previous owner was ‘ distantly related’ to Harry’s mark- this actually meant he was an agent from a rival secret service, and a shoddy one at that. The bug he planted on it, though impressively small as it was, was easy to find. He carved it out of the wood, and etched their initials right after. It was a sweet memory. This mission, Kalokairi, was unlike any other.

Not to say he was _in love_ or anything. That would be ridiculous. He smiled at the memory because it was actually quite funny.  Honestly, he was glad to rid himself of the tshirt. Wardrobe hadn’t been happy, but they couldn’t fault him for it- they’d lost more expensive clothes for much less. But it touched Harry, really, to find that she’d kept it all these years.

… Even if it was stowed away in some old goat house/

  
  
  
  


The goat house had a lingering smell, and was too cramped for three grown men. So they packed up and returned to Bill’s boat. They’d all unanimously decided that they _wouldn’t_ follow Donna’s orders- they each had their own reasons for staying on the island, at least until Sophie was wed. But that didn’t mean they wanted to face her wrath today. Instead they lifted anchor and floated out into the water, planning to enjoy the sun and get to know each other. Harry Bright thought it was a fine idea.

It wasn’t long before Sophie appeared. She was very good at that. Suddenly she was bobbing in the water, shouting something about not leaving. Harry shouted back at her, asking if she was okay and demanding she get on the boat.

  
  


“And now you’re working in a bank,” Sophie said. She was sitting close to him, arounds wrapped around her legs. She looked like a child. Harry nodded glumly, imagining how discouraging that would sound to Harry Bright. “A family man?”

Harry nearly laughed, shrugging instead of giving her a real answer. She didn’t need to know that his only company was canine.

“A football fan?” Sophie asked, eyes bright. Harry let out an affronted noise.

“You offend me,” Harry said lightly. “But… how dull it seems.”

“Not dull!” Sophie defended, leaning toward him excitedly. “Tell me more! I’ve never been to a big city like London!”

Harry smiled genuinely, not even annoyed by Sam’s obvious eye roll. Sophie was sweet. She really cared, those big blue eyes betraying her every thought. She’d be an awful agent. Really, just terrible. But a good wife she would make for her Sky. She was emotional, but caring, and had so much curiosity for the world around her.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Honey, honey,” a voice called out to him seductively. He located the sound immediately, but for the sake of his alias he swung his head around a bit. A young man was perched in a tree, leaning his back casually against the trunk.

“Pardon me?”

“You look like a movie star,” the boy grinned, swinging a foot. He leaned forward, planting his palms against the trunk between his legs.

“Why, thank you,” Harry replied, honestly a bit flattered. Even if he completely disagreed, wearing this getup.

“But I know just who you are.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“You’re a _thief_.”

“I’ve never stolen a thing in my life,” Harry lied, affronted. The boy swung his legs, and with the grace of someone who’d taken some sort gymnastics program landed directly in front of Harry. The young man looked up, hunger in his eyes.

“But you stole my heart, guv.”

Desire shot through Harry’s body. A faint blush spread to his cheeks, true to character. He let his mouth hang open a moment, before a smile began tugging at his lips. “Guilty as charged.”

Chuckling at the awkward old man he’d chosen to hit on, the boy ruffled his golden hair and stuck his hip out. “Don’t let me catch you doin that again. You here for the wedding?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“Then I’ll see you around,” he promised. And all too suddenly, he was walking away.

“There is something else I’d like to take,” Harry said anxiously, hoping the boy wouldn’t leave just yet.

The boy laughed, impressed. He turned, walking slower, backwards. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“Your number?” Harry dared.

“Ain’t got a phone,” he replied, raising his hands helplessly. The boy gave him one last smile, before turning tail and sprinting downhill.

Harry shook his head. Of all unexpected things….

  
  


After exploring the hotel and the shops in the immediate area, Harry took a walk down the beach. It was getting late, not yet sunset. He wasn’t ready to return to the boat, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d want to dig up on his first night on the island. So he walked, feeling the sand between his toes. So rarely could he indulge in the little moments, in feeling the heat, and the sand, and the breeze in his hair. Not wanting to bother the group of partiers he was approaching, Harry walked back towards the village. Too late he realized a woman was standing at the platform, resting against the railing reflectively. He approached, hoping he wouldn’t upset her further.

When he got to the rail, she didn’t say anything, didn’t move, so he stepped up and stood beside her.

 

“Harry,” Donna breathed softly, finally looking at him. Her smile was indulgent, but sad. “Does it show?”

“Does what show, Donna?”

“Just how much I’ve missed you.”

“Aw,” Harry smiled, opening his arms. “Come here, love.”

They shared a comfortable, platonic embrace. It was strange probably, holding the woman that so long ago he’d felt such passion for. But the spark was gone, and their memories were good- he had missed her too. He was happy to be back.

They held on for a while. Eventually they broke apart and looked toward the water again.

 

“Donna,” Harry began. “About… how we left off-”

“I don’t want to talk about the things we’ve been through.” Donna shook her head in that Donna-ish way, still familiar after so long. It amazed Harry that he’d only known her for such a short time, yet she’d had such an affect on him. “It’s history now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed. He’d put it behind him long enough ago. He figured he’d survive not getting the half assed closure they might have. He smiled. Putting Harry Bright back on, he said, “Why would you want to talk about an old headbanger like me anyway, yes?”

Donna snorted. “You were pretty cool back then, Harry….”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Harry still cringed internally when he thought about it. They’d had some really awful cover stories back in the eighties. Then again, Harry Bright had only ever been a cover. He left the island, left his persona, and went home. Donna Sheridan was always Donna Sheridan. “It must have been so hard for you, Donna. Doing all this on your own.”

Donna looked at him sharply. She looked ready to defend herself and her hotel. Harry could see that too many people pitied and victimized her, while offering no real help to lighten the load. But her anger melted into humour, mixing into a sardonic smile. “You know what, Harry? Yeah. It was. Raising Soph. Keeping this place. Keeping the locals happy. Trying to make ends meet when they’re miles apart.”

“I’m sorry, Donna,” Harry said, because he had no other ideas.

“I worked my ass off for years. And at the end of it all, I’ve got a hotel that’s falling apart and a daughter that’s getting hitched.”

“I think both your hotel and your daughter are very lovely,” Harry supplied.

“You were always so sweet, Harry, but you’ve always been a bit of an idiot.” Harry took no offense. He’d had a soft spot for Donna Sheridan from the beginning- both as a Bright and a Hart. And admittedly, Harry Bright did not always live up to his name. “I mean… this isn’t the hardest part of my life by a _longshot_. But Sophie’s growing up, and the hotel’s going nowhere fast, and… and I can hope, and I can beg, and I can want… but nothing’s going to change how I want it to, is it?”

Harry, wisely, stayed silent this time. He covered Donna’s hand with his own.

“And I think… there’s not a soul out there.” She smiled in a way that told Harry she could start crying at any moment. But being the woman that she was, she kept on smiling and gazing at the ocean. “No one to hear my prayers.”

Harry frowned. He cared for Donna. He wanted to hear her out, wanted to help in any way he could. But there was no way for Harry Bright to help them. Even Harry Hart was partially restricted in the ways he could give aid, morally. Donna said, “Do you ever feel that way, Harry?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. He thought of countless missions where he faced disgusting, ungodly things. He remembered the missions that he had thought were hopeless. And he thought of the years he’d spent alone, with few friends and only dogs to come home to. He knew very well what it felt like to be alone; and even better what it felt to pray to someone he didn’t believe in. “I do, Donna. But I’ve never gone through what you have.”

She turned to him with an appreciative smile, the lingering bitterness softened. “You never got married?”

Harry shook his head. “Never had kids?”

“Not one,” he said.

“It must have been lonely.”

“It still is, in many ways.” Harry looked away, towards the swaying waves.

“Would you change it?” Donna asked. “Would you rather go through what I have, or what you have?”

An interesting thought. He considered for a moment. If he thought of only the empty house, the quiet nights with his tea cup and his brandy, the companionship and connections he’d craved- then yes. He would trade it in a moment. But he had to also think of the people he’d saved, and the lives he had bettered. In the end, it was better that he was alone all those years. Just as someone had to raise Sophie, someone had to save the world. “No.”

Donna sniffed and wiped at her nose, nodding. She draped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close again. She hugged him tightly. And then she was gone, strolling away as if they hadn’t both just dug deeper than they had in years. “I’ll see you around, Harry. I’d better go make a wedding.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Or you could get on Bill’s boat and float away!” Donna laughed, waving over her shoulder.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Harry’s heart jumped excitedly when the team of young men vaulted onto the dancefloor. They looked like animals, swinging on vines and howling. Harry Bright would find the behaviour frightening. Harry Hart knew that it meant that enticing boy from the tree would show up again.

 

And there he was, exactly as Harry had expected. He was doing some ridiculous dance, surrounded by a small group of people. Some of the man were chanting something, and it took a few moments for Harry to realize it wasn’t a gibberish word, but a name. Eggsy.

Harry smiled. Perfect.

 

Eggsy finished his dance with a flourish, and the crowd around him cheered before quickly dissolving back into the throng of dancers. Eggsy’s eyes met Harry’s, and he sauntered over with a delicious smirk.

“Does your mother know where you are?” Harry asked.

“Does yours?” Eggsy replied devilishly.

“Fair enough,” Harry breathed, leaning closer subconsciously. His lips were only an inch away from Eggsy’s, purposefully or not he wasn’t entirely sure, when the boy grinned and spun away. He swayed deliciously as he danced, never straying too far from Harry. He began jumping with the pounding music, raising his arms above his head. Between one blink and another, he’d magicked a martini into existence. He downed half of it in one go before forcing it into Harry’s hand and dancing away. Shrugging, Harry finished the job.

“I’d like another one of those,” he murmured to himself, moving towards the bar slowly.

“ _Another of what_?” Harry didn’t jump when the voice suddenly interrupted in his ear. But truthfully, he’d forgotten that it could do that. He’d agreed to wear the earpiece only because it was essentially undetectable, and less troublesome than wearing glasses all the time. However, this also made it much more difficult to take out when the devil on your shoulder wouldn’t shut up.

Harry glanced around him and kept his voice low. “None of your business, Merlin.”

“ _Come on, Harry, include me. It’s terribly boring handling Geraint’s surveillance mission_ .” Harry sighed. “ _What is that music? Terrible._ ”

Harry rolled his eyes. He detoured so he could make another round of the dance floor before ordering. “The young people seem to enjoy it.”

“ _Aye?_ ”

“... Donna and her ladies sang our song earlier,” Harry whispered. Merlin gasped dramatically.

“ _Now this is what I came for! Why’d she do that?_ ” Honestly, Merlin could be such a gossip sometimes.

“I doubt it was for me,” Harry replied. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel all that sullen about it, either. Not when the air was alive with sound of the music, and a beautiful imp was dancing in the back of his mind. “I think it was just a fan favourite, and she wanted to start her daughter’s bachelorette off strong.”

“ _Hmmm_ ,” Merlin hummed. He wasn’t pleased with the lack of juicy gossip, but that couldn’t be helped. Harry was here to… well, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he wasn’t planning on rekindling the fires of the olden days. He’d learned too many things since then, about himself and the world. And Donna was more than a world away from him. “ _What are you drinking?_ ”

“Something colourful and delicious.”

“ _Mm. Get another. You're not allowed it when you come back_.”

“How can I pass up an opportunity like that?”

  


Just as Harry was about to turn and head towards the bar at last, a woman grabbed his arm and he was dragged into the throng again. The young people pulled him in a circle, doing some dance move they all seemed to know but was entirely foreign to Harry. He laughed and followed along as best as he could. He tried to tell himself it was for the alias, but truthfully he was enjoying the evening.

 

Breathlessly, he forced himself out of the group and strolled towards the bar. Sophie was there, strangely alone for it being her party.

“Hello.” Sophie smiled up at Harry in a reserved way.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine.” Hm.

“Fancy Donna having a grown up daughter!” Harry blurted awkwardly.

“Do you have any children, Harry?”

“Well, I have the dogs, Lucy and Kipper.” Harry pointedly did not mention the third dog, stuffed and mounted in his downstairs loo. “That’s the extent of my relationships.”

At Sophie’s silence, he continued the word vomit. “I'd have loved a daughter. I'd have spoiled her rotten.”

Tough crowd. Suddenly curious, he asked, “Is your father here?”

“I don’t know who my father is,” Sophie said sullenly. Then she was whisked away by the insidious crowd.

 

Harry wandered off, joining the dancers again. Merlin must have dropped off some time ago, because there were no snide remarks as alcohol moved in his blood and music moved through his body. He danced, and he didn’t care that there were dozens of young people there to judge him.

 

“ _What are you doing, Harry?_ ”

“Having the time of my life!” Harry shouted, heedless of the people dancing around him.

“ _Shite. I'll be back._ ” And silence from the ear piece again. Harry didn't miss it much, as the music seemed to get louder as the night went on.

  
  


“Sophiiiie!” Harry called drunkenly, waving his arms in her general direction as he sang her name.

“ _Who's Sophie_?” Merlin asked suddenly.

Not caring that he was physically pressed against no less than four civilians, Harry answered: “Donna’s daughter!” Merlin hummed.

“ _Harry, how old is the girl?_ ” Merlin’s voice whispered underneath the music. Faintly, he could hear the sound of keys being clicked faster than should be possible. He took the glass someone offered him and drained it, finding it pulled from his fingers moments later. There was a long silence, perhaps a minute at the most. It might have been seconds. He completely forgot Merlin was in his ear. Until he exploded, “ _HARRY, YOU BLOODY GIT!_ ”

A bit offended at the tone but not understanding the reason, Harry elected to ignore him in favour of itching under his mask and moving his arms in a way he’d never done before. “ _SHE’S TWENTY, HARRY! SHE’S TWENTY YEARS OLD!_ ”

Harry furrowed his brow, mind sluggishly trying to process that information. In his dancing he turned, and there was young Sophie. She blinked at him, and in a flash of intuition he saw his mother’s big blue eyes. He tore his mask away from his sweaty face. “I’m your father!”

  
  
  
  
  


“ _Fucking hell, Harry,_ ” Merlin sighed. His drunken mind produced an image of him leaning back in his seat and lifting his glass, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “ _We’ve both had a night of it. Go for the lad. Take it now or leave it._ ”

Harry hadn’t needed Merlin’s permission to take Eggsy to bed. But he couldn’t deny the genius of the idea at the moment.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“What you lookin for, mate?” Harry jumped, embarrassingly. He straightened up quickly, knocking into the desk with his hip.

“Ah, uh….”

“Ain’t gonna find nothing,” Eggsy said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He was sitting up, still naked and ruffled from their night together. He looked entirely too adorable in his sleepy disheveledness; he looked entirely too attractive with the blanket pooled around his waist. Harry had to get out of there. “Too poor to afford anything valuable. Too smart to hide anything fun where you could find it.”

Harry chuckled, pulling at his curls in fake nervousness. “I assure you, I was doing nothing of the sort.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to leave a note.”

“What?” Eggsy cocked his head, eyebrow furrowed. God, he looked good.

“I just wanted to…” Harry trailed off. “Well, I wanted to say good bye. And that I hope to see you again during my visit.”

“Yeah?” he asked again, a wide grinning spreading across his face. “Why would you wanna say all that? Most blokes just fuck off after a one night stand.”

Harry smiled dryly. This felt nothing like his usual one night stands. “Would you laugh at me if I said I care for you?”

“Aw, Haz,” Eggsy crooned teasingly. However, Harry couldn’t miss the faint pink flush on his cheeks.

“So….” Harry’s gaze fell to the ground, where he finally spotted his pants. He quickly picked them up and shoved them in his trouser pocket. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Eggsy smiled handsomely. “See you at the wedding, I guess.”

“Until then,” Harry said, genuine excitement leaking into his voice.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Breathing heavily, Harry straightened and brushed off his lapels. He turned away from the slumped body, and immediately caught the wide eyes of Eggsy. He was standing in the archway, mouth open and tie undone. Neither spoke for a charged moment. Casually leaning an arm against the nearest pillar, Harry offered, “Have you tried the bisque? I think that may be a hit at dinner tonight.”

“... Well, it better be,” Eggsy muttered. “You sure did a number on the salad course.”

Harry’s gaze dropped to the ground, where a large tray of leaves and vegetables was strewn across the dirt. Harry laughed suddenly, the hilarity of it bubbling out of him like he had no control. He wiped a tear from his eye and sighed. “I’ll have to give my apologies to the caterer. And Miss Sheridan.”

“You know,” Eggsy said, crossing his arms. He looked entirely too calm for someone who had just seen an unassuming character like Harry Bright incapacitate a rogue waiter, but Harry was counting this as a positive thing. “I’ve not met many bankers in my day. But I know you ain’t one.”

“No,” Harry said slowly. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

Eggsy did a long drag of his eyes down Harry’s body, all too appreciative of what should have rightfully terrified him.

“We probably shouldn't be here when someone finds him.” Eggsy motioned to the waiter, then nodded in the other direction. “Or we start shouting now.”

“Let's go,” Harry agreed, taking Eggsy by the elbow as they briskly walked away from the scene. “Surely you have questions for me to avoid answering, and we best not do that in public.”

They ended up back near Eggsy's place. Looking to avoid any lapses in self-restraint, Harry guided them towards the alley behind the building in favour of going to his room.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, Eggsy was asking a question.

“Is Harry Bright even your real name?”

“It’s a name I went by, once,” Harry answered truthfully. “Now it’s an alias. One easy to slip into.”

“Hm.” Eggsy seemed to mull this over.

“Harry is my name,” he supplied. “Harry Hart.”

Eggsy smiled brilliantly. “Good. I like that.”

“And I like Eggsy.”

“It’s Gary, really.” He scrunched up his face adorably. “That’s shite though, ain’t it?”

“If you say so.”

“It's shite.”

“Your tie is undone.”

“I'm shite at that too,” Eggsy admitted. “Just bollocks at the whole 'responsible adult' thing.”

“May I?” Harry asked, cautiously lifting a hand towards Eggsy throat. The damn fool nodded, not a tense muscle in his body as Harry didn't strangle him to death. Instead he tugged the tie to a better length and began folding.

Eggsy breathed shallowly, eyes low as he watched Harry's long fingers working the fabric. “Fuck me, yeah?”

Harry chuckled.

“There we are,” Harry said, placing a hand on the tie, on his chest. “A gentleman should always have a proper knot in his tie. Anything less is abysmally impolite to anyone who must witness him.”

“You ain't got a tie,” Eggsy observed cheekily.

Harry smirked. “Perhaps Harry Bright is not a gentleman.”

Eggsy's eyes did another slow drag of his body again, more obvious than the last now that they stood inches apart. “I won't tell no one.”

“Thank you.”

“On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“Gimme a kiss,” Eggsy grinned. “I always wanted to kiss a spy.”

Laughing, Harry shook his head. “Didn't you get enough of that last night?”

“Well, I didn't get to _savour it_ last night,” Eggsy pouted. “I had no idea!”

Harry shook his head again. Nonetheless, he touched the beautiful boy's chin gently and pressed their lips together.

  
  
  
  
  


Harry scanned the crowd. Sophie was at the front of the pack, too busy with her friends and the experience of it all to be bothered with an old father. Sam had dragged Donna off in the back, and Bill was nowhere to be seen. Harry hadn’t exactly made friends with many locals. But there was one face he wanted to see.

Bingo. On the other side of the group.

“Eggsy,” Harry murmured, sidling up next to him. The boy smiled up at him, wordlessly moving closer. Their shoulders brushed together as they walked with the rest of the group.

The view was beautiful. The outcropping of rock was perfectly chiseled out of the water, and the sunset was spectacular. But the most wonderful feeling of all was when Eggsy’s fingers brushed his, linking their pinkies together for only a moment.

 

The procession slowed as they reached the chapel, and began filing inside happily. Despite the obvious tension between Donna and the natives, it seemed that no one could find it in themselves to feel anything but admiration for dear Sophie. Harry felt his heart swell even more as he watched her reach the doors and turn, smiling nervously. She was beautiful, and so much like her mother. His beautiful daughter.

“I have great news, everyone,” she squeaked. The crowd fell silent quickly. “My mother will be giving me away today! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Harry’s shoulders fell. There was a sweeping disappoint with the understanding of her announcement, and a bit of sadness. But he wouldn’t argue. Donna had rightfully earned the position, raising Sophie all alone for twenty years. He couldn’t help but be happy for her, for both of them. Even if a bit of forewarning would have been appreciated.

Sophie disappeared, and the crowd continued on. Harry smiled as he showed Eggsy to their creaky chairs, and greeted the person next to him joyously. No matter what happened, he was happy to have Sophie. He was happy to see her joining the love of her life in a beautiful union. She deserved as much and more.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“ _That was quite something, Harry,_ ” a voice said as he left the chapel.

“Wasn’t it though?” Harry replied after a cursory glance around him. “ _That’s_ one relationship I’ll be glad to not have to watch fail.”

“ _What happened to your love of romance, Galahad?_ ”

“What happened to communication?” Harry smiled at a Greek couple walking arm in arm, pausing before he continued. “Or even knowing each other before getting hitched. A bit ridiculous, isn’t it Merlin?”

“ _Perhaps_ ,” he said. A moment later, “ _Yes, quite a bit. But I think it’s bloody romantic._ ”

“Go ahead and think that. I’ve a dinner to attend and a young man to shag.”

Merlin sighed, crackling through the earpiece. “ _At least chivalry isn’t dead…._ ”

  
  
  


“So you’re a banker?” Eggsy asked, eyes sparkling mischievously over his glass of bubbly. Harry smiled dryly.

“Indeed I am.”

“What brought you into that profession?”

“It’s a rich man’s world, Eggsy,” Harry said, pseudo-mournfully as he picked up his fork and speared a piece of meat. “If possessing the means, it is perhaps in one’s best interests to associate oneself with those who have money.”

“That’s fair,” Eggsy nodded thoughtfully. After a moment he added, “I ain’t got none.”

“Not entirely surprising,” Harry replied casually. “Many young adults these days are on a tight budget, and you’re currently unemployed, yes?”

“Yeah, I am. Maybe,” Eggsy purred, leaning closer, “I ought to associate myself with someone who has money.”

“A solid plan, if someone is willing,” Harry teased. “Do you have any ideas on who you’ll capture?”

Eggsy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could retort Sam stood and began clinking his glass.

  


“Here’s to us! One more toast,” Sam said indulgently. “And then we pay the bill.”

The crowd murmured in low laughter. Harry joined in the awkward applause, shaking his head when Eggsy swung his head around and succumbed to the peer pressure of it. He leaned towards Eggsy and whispered around a wide smile. “A wonderful beginning to their marriage; Sam flaunting his money and superiority. Donna’s going to enjoy that.”

“Jealous?” Eggsy asked, grinning.

“When I have a vision sitting beside myself? Never.” Harry pressed a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead.

  
  
  
  


“You said, in the church,” Eggsy said, side-eyeing him as he swirled his glass, “that Donna was the last girl you loved. That mean you only go after blokes now?”

Harry turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Eggsy smiled and asked: “Or you just… inexperienced?”

“I’ve had a few little love affairs,” Harry admitted. “But they didn’t last very long and they’ve been pretty scarce.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Some would say it comes with the job.”

“With being a banker,” Eggsy deadpanned.

“With being a banker,” Harry returned. “A very demanding job. I rather think I could reorganize myself, though….”

“Could ya?”

“If I find the reason to… of course.” Harry smiled, raising his glass to his lips.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“... Oh my,” Harry said quietly, coming to a stop in front of Eggsy and turning again to watch the boat bob out of sight. “I’m finding myself a tad emotional.”

Eggsy snorted good naturedly and took his hand. “That’s alright, Harry.”

“It’s only just occurring to me,” Harry mused, “that she’s really leaving to go God knows where. With almost no means of communication. I feel that I’m losing her forever, and without really entering her world.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes, but he leaned into Harry comfortingly nonetheless. “You ain’t _losing her_ , Harry. She’ll come back here. Or she’ll visit you, at least.”

“You think she’ll come to London?” Harry hadn’t thought about that. He’d like to have Sophie and Sky stay at his house, sleep in his guest room, have tea and toast at his breakfast table.

“Of course. You can’t travel the world without stopping by for some bad weather.” Eggsy grinned.

Harry smiled in return, dropping his hand so that he could gather Eggsy in his arms. He kissed him once, chastely. “And will you visit me, Eggsy?”

“I was thinking….” Eggsy looked at his hands resting on Harry’s chest. He peeked up at Harry through his lashes, smiling shyly. “It might be time to go back home. I miss Dais.”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Harry grinned. He drew Eggsy in for another kiss, and another, and they held securely onto each other as the others left them, content at last in a world all of their own.


End file.
